


Embers

by SofiyatheGreatish



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Blue Spirit Zuko (Avatar), Ember Island (Avatar), F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love Amongst the Dragons, One Shot, Romance, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zutara Week, can't stop won't stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SofiyatheGreatish/pseuds/SofiyatheGreatish
Summary: It was cute. The thought blind-sighted Zuko, completely derailing whatever dry remark he’d been planning on joking with. Instead, he leaned back against the boulder, turning the bag over a few times in his hands. Likely Katara would excuse herself any second now; she had to be tired. But looking up, he was confused to see that she’d come -closer-.“Will you tell me about it?”Zuko learns to be vulnerable. And amazingly, it doesn't go as horribly as he thought. Angsty, fluffy one-shot because I really, really love this pairing and the Love Amongst the Dragons lore is mostly canon and I-couldn't-resist-so-anyway...
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to anyone who's ever struggled with vulnerability in the face of love. It's worth it. And so are you.

_____________________

It was night on Ember Island. On a small porch that jutted off the main chambers, Zuko was resting uneasily on the wood, staring up into the unspoiled, darkly glittering beauty of the night sky. He was having trouble sleeping. And while that in itself wasn’t necessarily uncommon for him, it was far worse on the island. It always had been since she’d gone. Zuko ran his fingers slowly over a scratch in the now-weathered wood in the deck, combing over the line with tired eyes. His mother had been bringing them out breakfast one morning and tripped on her robes, sending silverware clattering to the floor. A fork has barely scratched the surface of the wood, carving in the memory. Ursa had often used the exact spot to eat breakfast with Zuko; they were the early risers of the family. 

Her memory was everywhere. Zuko paused over the scratch, closing his eyes, the incredibly familiar tightness constricting his chest once more. He wondered distantly if it would ever stop hurting. If he would ever get to see her again. So lost in these thoughts was he that he didn’t notice the set of eyes watching him from around the corner of the deck, nor did he bother checking his surroundings when getting up and retreating inside. He needed something, and was, for once, distractedly oblivious in his focus. Opening a large, ornate wardrobe inside the main bedroom, Zuko reached in, feeling about the bottom of the wardrobe until his fingers brushed against what he’d been searching for. It was a small metal catch, nearly invisible. A little prying with the warping wood, and the false bottom lifted up. He was quick, and quiet, smoothly retrieving the item from within without hesitation. Turning on his heel, the firebender held the object to his chest, making his way for the door.

He needed space from the others.

Silently he stole across the side of the house, soft-soled shoes whispering over the grass under the covering swish of the palms above. Padding through the sand, Zuko made his way towards the ocean. The brilliant, just-waning moon above him cast silvery light over the shadows that helped him move down the sand-and-pebble pathway until he reached his destination. It was set a little to the side of the beach, just out of the treeline; a large, smooth rock. Two person-sized hollows, almost like reclined seats, were smoothly worn in the small boulder, into one of which Zuko slid. He laid his head back against the rock, noting with some displeasure his increased size which made the divot a bit more snug than he’d have liked. At last, though, he had his privacy.

Or so he’d thought. The sudden, inexplicable feeling of being watched fell over Zuko as though the air was heavier, and he sprang upright, clutching the small black bag to his chest. Something kept his from calling out but instead he bared his teeth, eyes shifting from one side to the other. In the moonlight, two eyes glistened from the forest. Watching him. Zuko let out a small pant that was a tiny spout of flame, guilt and anger twisting in his chest for being caught off guard. But before he could take the offensive, the figure let itself onto the silver expanse of the beach, low light catching the dusty blues and making the whites into gray. 

Katara. Zuko blinked mutely in surprise, not entirely sure what to say nor make of her presence. She stopped a few yards away from him, chin angling upwards to meet his eyes with hers. One hand was around the cork of her waterskin. She was on the defensive. The hairs on the back of Zuko’s neck stood up in confusion and malaise, but he didn’t move lest he antagonize whatever had her worked up. They had, after all, barely just become friends. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, trying his best to sound both nonchalant and nonaggressive. “Midnight stroll?”

Her expression was flat and guarded. “What’s in the bag, Zuko?” He didn’t miss the bit of bite with which she said his name. His grip tightened instinctively around the black velvet of the bag, pressing it closer to his chest. “Nothing that concerns you,” he retorted, quickly amending, “…nothing dangerous.” Katara took a step forward. Zuko held his ground but shifted his weight back apprehensively. While he was confident in his ability to fight the waterbender, he didn’t -want- to. How did they always seem to get to this place?

Another step forward. All Zuko wanted to do was tell her to knock it off, to leave, to let him be on what technically -was- his summer home where she was a guest. But Iroh was in the back of his mind, chiding gently, and Zuko’s heart sank a little. Now was not the time to be hiding.. even the less protected parts of himself. So before things could escalate again, he raised a hand in defeat to stop Katara’s advance. “Alright. Alright, I’ll show you. Just… give me a minute.” He didn’t blame her suspicion, even now. He’d hardly been an ally in the past. So while her defensive posture didn’t soften (in fact, it stiffened) when he got closer, Zuko made his movements slow and deliberate. He handed her the bag, screaming in his mind to please be careful and trying his best to conceal the slight tremor in his hand when she took it from him.

Katara drew open the bag, gaze flickering suspiciously from Zuko and back again as she removed the contents from inside. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, face turning up to Zuko as if to make certain that he hadn’t been toying with her. In her hand was a beautifully ornate, gently worn and heavy book. The title reflected the dim light around them, gold embossed letters catching even the faintest rays.

It was Love Amongst the Dragons.

Katara blinked several times, starting to leaf gently through the pages, when it became apparent that it was an ordinary if lovingly kept and decorated book, the waterbender replaced it in the bag and handed it back to Zuko with an almost palpable air of chagrin. “I’m… sorry, Zuko.” She managed. “I just…”

“It’s okay.” Zuko took the book and resisted the urge to clutch on to it, struggling to look as adult as possible despite the pounding of his heart. “It was my mother’s.” he continued, filling the now-awkward silence between them. “I don’t blame you. I, uh… haven’t exactly been the easiest to trust. What with the, uh… the chasing you guys around and… stuff.” Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head up, looking up to the stars miserably. He really was terrible at small talk. Normal people could do small talk, couldn’t they? Was this even the right place for small talk? A small, smooth-toned chuckle brought his back. Katara was rubbing her temples, giving him a somewhat rueful grin. “You’re not very good at small talk.” A spark of adrenaline that she has somehow read his mind shot through Zuko and his eyes widened, before catching up with himself and managing, “you’ve been hanging out with Toph too much.” Katara’s eyes widened in return and the hand massaging her temple froze; Zuko grinned wanly in return. “I just… meant. Well, I’m sorry that I was so suspicious. I should be better at it by now. Really, I just couldn’t sleep and I saw that you were up too…” she was trailing off, pulling on one strand of hair with both hands like she did when she was distracted or embarrassed. 

It was cute. The thought blind-sighted Zuko, completely derailing whatever dry remark he’d been planning on joking with. Instead, he leaned back against the boulder, turning the bag over a few times in his hands. Likely Katara would excuse herself any second now; she had to be tired. But looking up, he was confused to see that she’d come -closer-. 

“Will you tell me about it?”

The moonlight was adding depth to the already beautiful waves in her hair, catching her eyes. The proximity was distracting. It spiked Zuko’s heartrate again and he blinked thickly. What was going on?

“…huh?”

Katara pointed at the bag, patiently. “The book.”

The book. Right. Only his second most valuable possession. Zuko felt his cheeks color and was thankful for the low light. He removed the volume from its casing once more, tracing the intricate patterns that danced across the cover. “I had to read it again after watching… whatever that play was. It was my mother’s favorite story…. It was almost everyone in the Fire Nation’s favorite story, once. It’s about the Dragon Emperor…” without really thinking it through, he was flipping open the cover, turning the first few pages. Rich, elegantly written lines of text flowed around the illustrations on each page, telling the story in both picture and word. 

“He’s cursed by the Dark Water Spirit to take mortal form. After that, he wanders the earth, knowing sickness and hunger for the first time.” Zuko pauses, staring at the dimly illuminated form of the red Dragon, succumbing to his human body. “He learns sorrow, too. Nobody knows who he is. He’s… lonely.” 

An unfamiliar warmth moves along his left side; Katara has joined him, evidently tired of craning her neck around to look at the pages. Her closeness brings with it the smell of campfire and something… floral. It’s pleasant, to say the least. Her arm brushes his as she sits down and they both freeze, electricity almost literally moving between them. Zuko barrels onward.

“After living among humans, the Dragon Emperor learns humility. It isn’t easy for him. But it isn’t all bad, either. Eventually, he finds Kina.” Zuko lost himself to thought, staring down at the book. The page depicted the Dragon Emperor’s human form, Noren, embracing a beautiful woman in seafoam-colored robes, flowers blooming on every side of them. The entire page, absent of text, depicted the loved locked in a passionate kiss. Zuko’s brain rebooted to panic just as Katara let out a little gasp. He quickly started to turn the page, violently regretting the decision to let her into this part of his life.  
It was a love story. Love Amongst the Dragons was the Fire Nation’s best-known and greatest love story, and Zuko loved it with every inch of his heart. He’d read this book, over and over, every summer of his childhood since he could read, before which he’d been read it by his mother. He knew it by heart almost cover to cover, and the knowledge that Katara was sitting here, in the middle of the largest war in generations, watching him fawn over a -romance novel- like a lovesick turtleduck was tying his stomach in knots, and—

“It’s beautiful.”

“What?”

He looked up, meeting her eyes. They were sparkling with unbridled excitement. “Zuko, it’s -beautiful-,” she said, emphasizing the last word. She turned the page back to the kiss, fingers brushing over his. He thought he saw her blush but didn’t stop to think on it. Katara pointed back to Kina. “Who is she?” 

Zuko stared at her a moment longer than he should have, mouth forming a little “oh” in surprise that she actually liked it. “She’s… well, she turned out to be the Dragon Empress,” he said hesitantly. “Only, he doesn’t know that. Neither of them knows who the other is until the end. They’re soulmates.” Zuko watched Katara’s lips copy the word ‘soulmates’ as if she were practicing how it felt to say. Her eyes slid from the page up to meet his stare and Zuko was suddenly incredibly invested in page 52 again. “The Dragon Emperor fights the Dark Water Spirit, of course...”

Katara was frowning. “Dark… -Water- Spirit?” The disdain was evident in her voice. She shifted away from Zuko a little and he fought the urge to facepalm for not thinking the story’s titular villain through in cultural terms. “He’s not a… well. Uh. He’s not a bender?” He offered lamely. She was starting to get up, go back to the pavilion. It was honestly not the best move to have shown it to her now that he thought of it because explaining the nuance of the time the story was set in before the war would take too much time and Zuko was terrible at explaining subplot. 

But it was Ursa’s favorite. And he had to defend it. “Katara, wait.” He reached out and lightly grabbed her hand without thinking, panic rising in his chest at the familiar feeling of being shut out. The action registered and they both froze again; Katara spun around but didn’t pull away. They both looked to their hands, Zuko’s fingers wrapped around Katara’s, firm but gentle. She looked at him, wide-eyed. “Zuko…?” He felt slightly dizzy. It was still infrequent and unnatural to touch other people for him, but Katara was… soft. And the fact that she didn’t pull away meant something, though he wasn’t entirely sure. He loosened his grip, but swallowed his nerves and continued. “I know what you may think, just… hear me out. It was her favorite story. It’s… mine, too. One of the only things that really makes me happy.” Katara’s features softened at that, lips parted slightly in surprise. And she did the last thing he would have expected.

She came back. Katara sat down beside him, closer this time, hands no longer intertwined but resting within inches of each other on the owner’s respective legs. And before he continued, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. And after a heart-pounding moment of not knowing what he should do, Zuko leans his head down on top of hers. It’s the most comforting sensation he’s capable of imagining right now.

Something has changed. They both know it. But for now, they’ll speak only of stories. Zuko leaved through a few more pages, nervousness bleeding away from him, the tightness in his chest easing up for the first time since they’d arrived on the island. His voice is slower, more measured. Almost melodic. “Noren fights the Spirit in the village. He’s not sure why the Spirit is there but knows he has to stop it. At the apex of the battle, he loses his vision and gets disoriented. By the time he can see again, the Spirit has made it to his corner of the village… and he thinks the Spirit’s killed Kina. He nearly takes his own life out of grief, but, at the last minute fights not for himself but for the village and the woman he loves. After he wins the battle, they’re reunited and discover who they were all along.” Zuko’s smiling now, flipping towards the end of the story. The reunion picture with its gold-embossed sun and vibrant, colorful wind had always been his favorite.

But Katara stopped him, turning back to a previous page. She sits up, startling Zuko slightly, the latter who suddenly becomes very aware of their proximity and goes to move back in case he’d crossed a line. But the firebender jerks to a halt seeing the age that she’s pouring over. It’s the Dark Water Spirit. Crouched atop a mountain, battling the Dragon Emperor in a detailed illustration, the curved fangs and thickly-rimmed eyes of the Spirit’s mask are in full display.

It’s the mask that Zuko had worn when he attacked them. And when he’d saved Aang, and later cut Appa free. The mask that Ursa had bought along with the others from the Ember Island Players one summer, that had hung in her bedroom of the palace long after she’d disappeared. Katara looks at the Spirit’s mask, and Zuko feels a cold stone of dread settle in his gut that she’d figured it out.

“…Why?”

He couldn’t look at her. It was too difficult. Complicated… well… is it really so complicated? Zuko knows it isn’t. “Everyone in the Fire Nation, nearly everyone, knows that play.” He rasped. “It seemed like a logical choice. I was always the villain. To my father, to my Nation, and later to all of you. I don’t make things better. I separate, I capture.” Zuko’s fists clenched. “I kill.” His throat was tight. A few minutes ago they had seemed on the edge of something… different. Something that made him feel like he was worth something. But he didn’t get that. Because on the opposite side of joy was always the reminder of who he was. The failure. The disgrace.

Disgraces don’t get happy endings. That was the last thing Ozai had said to him before he’d been banished. And he’d never escaped it. He needed to leave, now. Zuko sprang up, dumping the book into the sand. Katara’s cry of surprise rang in his ears as he walked as quickly as he could, self-hatred and chest-crushing panic driving him aimlessly forward into the trees.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

The mantra steered him onward until his shaky legs gave out, dumping him on the ground in a small clearing. He was struggling to breathe. It always ended up like this. Why? Why, why, why?! Why couldn’t he just be happy? Why did..

A sound behind him painfully jolted his adrenaline. Zuko whirled around, fists wreathed in flame, eyes wide like a cornered animal. And there she was again. Gently holding the book in one hand, the other stretched out, palm upwards in a peace offering. She’d been crying. He could see the water collected at the corners of her eyes in the flickering light of the flames. It struck a chord inside him and he relented his control on the fire, letting it extinguish and make him once again vulnerable. Katara came close but stopped a step away from him, as if waiting for permission. She looked sad and worried, and for once she looked her age. No longer a waterbending master but a gentle-faced girl who reached out for him.

Zuko took her hand. She bent down to carefully lay the book on a nearby stone and came to him, cautiously at first. Zuko watched her, unable to trust himself to speak after he had almost literally run from her. Why, for once in his life, couldn’t he open up and have a normal interaction with a girl? But Katara wasn’t any girl. And she took his other hand, coming closer than they’d ever been face-to-face. And after a long moment of silence, Katara threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder, holding on to him for dear life. 

And Zuko, after a moment of shock, slipped his arms around her back and held her in return. 

He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed him in. Slowly, he lifted a hand and indulged the urge to pet her hair. She hummed gently in reply and Zuko’s chest exploded for what felt like the seventh time that night (this time in a rush of buzzing, bubbly energy), running his fingers through the waves and leaning his face against hers. Katara leaned back but didn’t let go. They stared at one another, inches apart, in total silence for what was surely more than a minute. Katara lifted her hand and hovered over Zuko’s scar. He blinked but gave the barest nod. She rested her fingertips against his skin, tracing the lines of his scar delicately and without fear. It was such an intimate gesture that Zuko had to keep the water from his own eyes. Her fingers stilled.

“You don’t have to be the villain, Zuko.” Katara whispered. “You aren’t. At least… not to me. You’ve given things up for us all, too. And I…” She trailed off, losing his gaze. Zuko’s heartbeat was ringing in his ears. He took a chance and intertwined their fingers, squeezing lightly. “Katara?” His voice was barely a whisper in the silvered darkness of the clearing.

“…I was so heartbroken when you left. Because I don’t -want- you to be the villain. I was you to be, well, here. With me.” She looked up again, lips parted, face set in a wide-eyed blush. But her gaze was unwavering. Something had changed, and they were finally coming upon the realization. They moved simultaneously; Zuko scooped his arm around the small of Katara’s back as she cupped his face in both hands in a deep and passionate kiss. They stayed like that, swaying in the darkness, for a long moment.

Love Amongst the Dragons had always been Zuko’s favorite story. And maybe finally, he thought, he was worthy of a love like that.

\--Fin--

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I just watched ATLA all the way through for the first time this year and this story was bursting out of my chest before I'd even finished! I've been so incredibly in love with the depth and emotion of the fandom and the timeless story created by these characters. Here's to a world of epic storytelling, a light in the dark place that is 2020. Here's to the power of story, song, and magic.


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